You Can Read On AO3, Or Here Gang Idc
You can read on AO3, or here gang idc
---
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Fandom:
DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Relationship:
None
Characters:
Mark Beaks, Coach Beaks
Additional Tags:
Blood and Injury, Blood, Blood and Gore
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2025-03-09Words:1,020Chapters:1/1Comments:1Kudos:2Hits:6
Can't think of a title holy shit
1anon1
Summary:
...
Notes:
⚠️ BLOOD WARNING ⚠️ So this ain't canon like at all. I wrote this at 3am don't judge.
Work Text:
“I kept telling you to hit the ball—to hit the ball!” Coach Beaks' voice thundered through the empty locker room as he yanked Marcus’s arm. “But every time you try, you miss!”
Marcus struggled against his grip, but it was no use. His father’s fingers dug into his sleeve, his frustration boiling over. With a sharp shove, he pushed Marcus against the cold concrete wall.
“I thought I told you to actually participate in the game!”
Marcus winced, the sting of his father’s words cutting deeper than the rough impact against his back. He lowered his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry, Father…” he murmured. But the apology hadn't even left his lips before his father’s voice crashed over him again. “‘Sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it, young man!” He pinched the bridge of his beak. “God, you're such a disappointment.”
…
There was a brief pause. Mark covered his head with his hands, his chest tight as tears threatened to spill, but he blinked them back fiercely. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold it together. Coach put a hand on his chin thoughtfully. “You know,” he mumbled, “we’ve used the bat for practice and in games… Wait here, Marcus.”
Marcus didn’t move an inch. He kept his head down, his breath shaky as his father’s footsteps echoed across the tile floor. His chest felt tight, his stomach twisted in knots. Wait here. The words hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken. Then came the sound—metal scraping against metal. A locker opening. A pause. The unmistakable clink of a wooden bat being lifted.
Marcus swallowed hard. His pulse quickened.
Mark looked up when he didn’t hear his dad's footsteps anymore.
Without hesitation, he swung.
The bat struck Marcus hard across the ribs. A sickening thud echoed through the locker room. Marcus gasped as white-hot pain exploded through his side. He crumpled to the floor, clutching his ribs, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.
“You wanna cry now?” his father sneered, looming over him. He tapped the bat against the floor, impatient. “Get up.”
Marcus tried. His arms shook as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, but his body screamed in protest. His ribs ached with every shallow breath.
“I said get up.”
Another strike. This time across his shoulder. Marcus collapsed again with a sharp cry, his vision blurring as pain overtook him.
“Pathetic,” Coach Beaks muttered. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his beak in frustration. He turned and tossed the bat back into the open locker with a loud clang.
“Clean yourself up before you go home,” he said coldly. “And don’t let your mother find out about this… This won’t be the last time, either.” He rolled his eyes.
With that, he walked out, leaving Marcus curled up on the locker room floor, his body shaking, his breath uneven, and his father’s words burning deeper than the bruises forming beneath his feathers. He was left there, crying and alone.
After a while, he finally managed to sit up. He leaned against the wall, his breath shallow, and coughed weakly.
Marcus sat there, his back pressed against the cold concrete wall, gasping for air. A sharp cough wracked his body. He raised a hand to his mouth, feeling something warm on his tongue. When he pulled his hand away, dark red stained his feathers.
Blood.
His stomach twisted, but he forced himself to stay calm. He pulled his knees up to his chest and cried silently, his face pressed into his arms. His tears, once on the verge of spilling, now flowed freely as his body trembled. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain to subside, but it lingered—throbbing deep in his ribs and shoulder.
Minutes passed. Maybe more.
He slowly brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes, trying to wipe away the tears.
Finally, Marcus swallowed hard and forced himself to move. His limbs protested, his ribs screaming with every shift, but he grit his teeth and pushed forward. He needed to get up. He couldn’t stay here. If anyone saw him like this—if his mother found out
Marcus shook his head. No. He had to pull himself together.
With trembling hands, he reached for the nearby bench, using it for support as he dragged himself to his feet. His vision swam, his legs threatening to give out beneath him, but he steadied himself. One breath at a time. One step at a time.
He wiped his mouth, trying to ignore the taste of iron that lingered in his throat.
FLASH.
"Focus, Beaks," he muttered to himself under his breath.
He slowly raised his head from his arms. Was he…
He looked around—his office. His desk. His computer, flashing with the latest figures.
It was all right there. The world he’d built. The world he owned.
The office door opened as a duck with her hair in a messy bun, wearing a black skirt suit and heels, knocked on the door. “Mr. Beaks? The board is ready to see… you…” she paused when she saw his state. “Mr. Beaks? Are you alright?”
Mark rubbed his face, brushing away the lingering fog of the dark memory. "Y-Yeah. I'm okay," he murmured, blinking again. "Just a little trip down memory lane. Nothing to worry about. I'll be there in a second, Melanie." He forced a quick, reassuring smile.
She hesitated, her eyes lingering on him, but she nodded. “Right. Ready when you are.”
Without another word, she shut the door behind her, her footsteps descending until the sound of them faded, leaving Marcus alone in his office once again. The only noise now was the faint hum of traffic outside.
He sat in his chair for a moment, staring down at his hands. The urge to cry bubbled up again, but he pushed it away with a heavy sigh. He stood and headed for the door, the sound of his talons clicking against the tile floor echoing in the silence.
He was Mark Beaks. And nothing was going to bring him down. Not anymore… Right?
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I love Mark so much and you're one of the few people who writes for him these days. Thank you for giving us the Mark representation we need!
Aw stop your so sweet 💕 He's one of my favourite characters in ducktales/in cartoon history. And even though he's done bad things (nearly killing people in the process) there has got to be a reason for it and y'all can't change my mind. 😤 I feel so bad for him 😭 he needs a redemption fr
Thanks again for the ask❤️
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Thanks y'all <33
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category:
Other
Fandom:
DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Relationship:
None
Character:
Mark Beaks
Additional Tags:
DepressionMark beaks DEFINITELY has depression
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2025-03-28Updated:2025-03-30Words:1,763Chapters:2/?Kudos:2Hits:14
Inner demon's
1anon1
Chapter Management
Edit Chapter
Chapter 2: A day at Waddle! (And also to see how much Marks inner demon's get the better of him ;P)
Summary:
Mark Beaks has everything—money, success, a company with his name on it—but none of it feels real anymore...none of it mattered, it never did.
——————————————————————
Chapter Text
The building’s doors slid open, revealing the sleek, high-tech office lobby that bore his name. But Mark felt like a stranger in it. ‘What are you doing? You’re just standing here like an idiot. Walk in already.’ He swallowed hard, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag before finally stepping inside.
As soon as he stepped in, he was met with the usual chorus of greetings-employees flashing polite smiles as they walked past. He then gave them his signature finger-guns. It was an effortless charm he could pull off but…it felt so robotic, and hollow.
His chest tightened as he moved through the space, it was filled with people who actually belonged here. With his heart pounding against his ribs it made it harder and harder to focus, but he managed to ignore it, forcing a smile to everyone he saw. After all, it looked like he had everything under control…no one knew how bad he was really falling apart.
Mark walked forward, but he wasn’t really there. His mind spiraled elsewhere, his thoughts turning sharper, harsher, as he made his way toward the elevator. ‘You don’t belong here. You’re just playing pretend. They’re all working, actually earning their place here—so beaks, what are you doing here?’
His chest tightened again, his pulse hammering in his ears. The world around him felt distant—blurry faces, muted voices, the artificial brightness of the office space that suddenly felt too sterile, too wrong. He barely noticed the people passing him, barely registered the weight of his own footsteps. He was sinking, drowning under the crushing weight of failure, failure, failure—
A light tap on his shoulder snapped him back. He blinked rapidly, suddenly aware that he had stopped in the middle of the floor. Miss Taffy stood beside him, tablet in hand, one perfectly arched brow raised.
“I was going over your schedule,” she said, her tone careful. “Are you listening?”
Mark forced a grin, shifting his duffel bag like that would somehow make him look more composed. “Yeah, yeah, totally. Hit me with it.”
She held his gaze for a second longer before continuing.
“Okay, well, after this, you’ve got the…”
She rattled off meetings, calls, and appointments, but the words blurred together, slipping through his mind like static. He nodded along absently, pretending. Just like always.
°°°
He was now in his office, he felt so tired.
Mark sat at his desk, staring at the untouched food beside him. A perfectly plated meal—probably expensive, probably something he once would’ve snapped a picture of just to flex online. But now, it just sat there, untouched, because the thought of eating made his stomach twist. He hadn't eaten in a while, why couldn't he just eat? ‘You don't deserve it, that's why’
He leaned back in his chair, letting his head tip against the headrest, eyes drifting to the ceiling. His office was pristine, sleek, designed to impress—but to him, it just felt cold. Lifeless. It was supposed to be a reflection of his success, of the empire he built, but right now, it felt more like a cage. A glass box where everyone could see him but no one really could.
The office buzzed faintly outside his door—muffled conversations, ringing phones, the steady hum of productivity. People working. People actually doing something. Meanwhile, he was slumped in his chair, hands limp in his lap, the glow of his computer screen casting sharp shadows on his face. His inbox was flooded with emails—some urgent, some not—but all of them felt equally impossible.
He let out a slow breath, running a hand down his face.
“Get it together Marcus.” He mumbled.
‘Just answer one. Just one.’
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but his mind felt blank. No words came. ‘...your pathetic’ The pressure in his chest returned, squeezing tighter, heavier.
A notification popped up—a meeting in ten minutes. He was supposed to pitch something. Something new. Something exciting.
Mark swallowed hard, staring at the screen like it had personally betrayed him. “What the hell am I even doing anymore?”
°°°
The office was nearly empty by the time Mark finally left his desk. The once-busy space had died down, the usual chatter replaced by the quiet hum of the cleaning crew working in the background. The city outside his window still glowed, alive with people who had places to be, things to do. But up here, in his high-rise office, it was just him.
He made his way to the elevator, each step feeling heavier than the last. His duffel bag dragged at his shoulder, and his body ached—not from work, not from anything physical, but from the sheer weight of existing. He should be relieved that the day was over, but there was no comfort in that. Just the knowledge that he’d have to do it all again tomorrow.
The elevator doors slid shut, enclosing him in cold, artificial lighting. He let out a breath, pressing his forehead against the mirrored wall. His reflection stared back, exhausted eyes dull and unfocused. ‘This is you. This is what you’ve become.’
His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag. The silence pressed in. He was going home to an empty penthouse, to another night of nothing, to a bed that felt too big and a life that felt too small.
The doors chimed open to the parking garage. He didn’t move right away, just stood there, staring out at the empty lot. The thought of driving home, of going through the motions yet again, made his stomach sink.
For just a second, he considered turning around. Maybe going somewhere—anywhere—just to feel something. But the thought passed just as quickly as it came. He stepped forward, letting the doors slide shut behind him.
Mark’s footsteps echoed through the parking garage, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls in an eerie, hollow rhythm. His car sat in its designated spot, sleek and expensive, yet it felt like just another meaningless possession. He unlocked it with a lazy press of a button, the headlights flashing briefly before settling back into stillness. He hesitated before getting in, gripping the door handle, staring at his own reflection in the tinted window. The version of himself staring back looked drained, like a ghost of someone who once had energy, drive—purpose.
He finally slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar leather cool against his back. The moment he shut the door, the world outside faded into muffled silence, leaving him alone with his thoughts. His fingers hovered over the ignition button, but he didn’t press it. Instead, letting a tired groan, exhaling a slow, shaky breath and resting his head on the steering wheel. ‘What are you even doing at this point?’ The thought looped endlessly in his mind, gnawing at him. He had everything—money, fame, success—yet he had nothing that actually mattered. And that realization felt heavier than anything else.
He sat there for a while longer before finally started the car, the engine purring to life, but he didn’t move. The GPS screen glowed, waiting for a destination, but he had nowhere to go. His penthouse wasn’t a home—it was just another empty space, another reminder of how hollow everything had become. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, his breath unsteady. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, the thought crossed his mind—what if I just kept driving? No destination, no plan, just…away? But he knew better. No matter how far he went, the weight in his chest would follow. With a tired sigh, he put the car in drive and pulled out of the garage, disappearing into the city lights like just another passing shadow.
‘YOU are the reason your like this’
——————————————————————
Notes:
Follow me on Ao3 if you like this stuff or is a Mark beaks fan!
1anon1
Every single dot point is true😭
Added the same "#" as the original post
What 'Ducktales 2017' gave us
(in honour of the 4th anniversary of the finale)
Each one of the triplets having their own personality
Donald Duck being a good parent exactly as Goofy was shown to be in the 90s
David Tennant playing Scrooge McDcuk
Lin Manuel Miranda playing Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera...
... latinx Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera!
Mark Beaks, a character that is slowly becoming more relevant as time goes by
Female characters allowed to be flawed (Bentina, Gandra, Goldie, Della...)
DELLA DUCK!
Disabled Della Duck!
Tons of neurodivergent coded characters (Huey, Violet, Dewey, Webby...)
An entire episode that talks about autism without talking about autism
'I'm Boyd, I'm a real boy!'
Goldie and Daisy allowed to be more than someone's love interest
Goldie being a femme fatale with a fear of attachments
Scroldie with a happy ending!
Daisy being a girl boss who knows her worth but at the same time being a great girlfriend for Donald
Donald canonically going to therapy and good rep of what it means
Not one, but two great Christmas episodes!
A great modern rendition of the 3 caballeros song
Josè and Panchito being the former bandmates of Donald's college band
a Bond-style episode
a 'Ocean's Eleven'/'Die Hard' inspired episode
EMO DONALD MY BELOVED
Fethry, Gladstone and Rockerduck finally animated (for someone grown up with the italian comics it was a great moment)
WEBBIGAIL WANDERQUACK, MY PRECIOUS DAUGHTER
LENA SABREWING, MY OTHER PRECIOUS DAUGHTER
an honest portrayal of having an abusive parental figure, focusing especially on its consequences
this version of Gyro
'I do not wish to date an Earth... male'
Launchpad being dumb and at the same having great emotional intelligence
Drake Mallard becoming Darkwing Duck to honor what the superhero meant to him growing up (even if the actor tried to unalive him)
'They want grim and gritty, right? Well, happy to play the part!"
an iconic Halloween episode
'Sup party people!' and all the reunions that followed after (each one of them perfect and tearful)
Powerline being a canon singer in the Ducktales Universe
the Wandavision episode before 'Wandavision' even aired
Scrooge being more obsessed with adventures than money
'You thought there was a real genie inside?'
'What the...' 'Fowl!'
The moon song
The duke of making a mess
The Darkwing Duck episode an hour long
'BURRITOS!'
Catherine Tate playing Magica De Spell
The 'All I do Is Win' scene
Glomgold and all his sharks related plans
'According to the Junior Woodchuck guide...'
Sharpie
The freaking multidimensional portal that must cause problems in every Disney animated series
The mandatory Dragonball and Sailor Moon reference just like in every other Disney animated series
The poor teen possessed by the villain at a certain point, even worse if it's their abuser and they are trying to free themselves by them that happened in every Disney animated series
The finale plot twist
A great showrunner that ran a blog on Tumblr and answered our questions without giving to much spoilers
𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚍: 𝙸'𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚜.
*𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚢*
𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚢: 𝙸'𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!
*𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚍*
𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚍: *𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭*
shows up
ruins everything
immediately dips
THAT'S MY SUPERHERO 👏💯
Mark: It's illegal to murder me! I am an endangered species!
Burger Beagle: oh no, Ma is that true?
Ma Beagle: It's illegal to murder anyone!
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totallynotluna liked this · 1 month ago -
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kiko8900 reblogged this · 2 months ago
Can animate, Can't draw 💻 Cartoon addict 😵💫Can you tell I like Mark beaks😼
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